


Table Manners.

by Marinne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (which tells him this is wrong and yet he does it anyway), Age Difference, Because it's still underage, Consensual Underage Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, anyway, because Peter is eager, because Tony is not a young'un anymore folks, but also still consensual, he really is so precious though, so consensually unhealthy?, there's a blowjob, there's more tags than fic I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinne/pseuds/Marinne
Summary: Frustrated, the man stares at the wall like he’s still got Peter pushed up against it. His slacks are still wet; shirt still warm with the boy’s heat. He sighs without bothering to compose himself.“Friday?”“Sir?”“Deactivate conscience.”Tony knows it's wrong but he can't stop himself.





	Table Manners.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perdue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdue/gifts).



> Because I'm weak trash and Infinity War encouraged me what can I say.

Tony is a billionaire and a genius. He can wipe his rich behind with gold-plated toilet paper just as easily as he can surround himself with omniscient AI’s that he already considers part of the family. He has a _family_ , a concept that he’s always thought would be foreign and alien to him. Brilliance and healthy relationships haven’t been exactly mutually inclusive in his experience. And yet he’s going to get married to the best woman he knows, who knows _him_ like no one does, like she’s the better part of him (which Tony won’t admit, but they both know is true), who finishes his sentences off like they’re following a script no one else knows about. Pepper is the love of his life. Tony would be a disaster without her.

But then there’s Peter. Peter, who fucks up the entire pretty picture and brings out the decay underneath, beyond what any amount of brilliance or money or wedding plans can do to hide it.

Tony’s always known there was something wrong with him. Something that he’s never coined a name to, something that he’s tried to wash away with rivers of cash and glass and broken his back over asphyxiating under an oversized ego. Something that’s corrupted and abnormal that years and expensive suits and _Playboy_ cologne haven’t been able to cleanse him of. Fuck, it’s still there and _Peter_ brings it out of him without even trying. He just turns those big brown Care Bear eyes on Tony and he’s wrecked, fisting himself over Peter’s eager face - he’s always so fucking eager, Jesus - and pumping sin into his mouth that he’ll later hate himself for but in the moment feels _so fucking good._

Peter takes the one thing genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark already lacks in and burns it to feverish ashes; he laughs in the face of his straining self-control and strips him of it with a nervous smile through a mouthful of come.

“Hey, kid, I’ll get that new upgrade sent to you in the morning,” Tony says. He’s panting, a world-saving superhero reduced to a mortal pile of gelatinous and unsteady bones and embarrassingly low stamina. “Happy told me you were having problems with the GPS after that dunk in the Atlantic you took it for. I’ve improved--”

“Mr Stark, I - I don’t need it,” Peter says. He’s pulling himself back to his feet, looking up into Tony’s face. His cheeks are beautifully flushed, mouth filthy in the loveliest of ways.

“I insist.” Tony swallows. Wishes his hands wouldn’t tremble when Peter nuzzles into his chest and mewls that it’s fine, that he tweaked it and fixed the bug himself. It’s only when he presses a kiss against the man’s neck that he snaps, pushing Peter back into the wall suddenly. “I’m using you,” he declares, firm, pinning Peter in place with his eyes. But the boy looks so innocently startled that he folds before he has the chance to dismantle the bluff they’re trapped in. His gaze softens minimally and so does his grip. “As a publicity board. So all your equipment has to be top-notch, Pete.”

This makes Peter smile. He’s like a fucking ray of sunshine. Always so bright. Always so easy to make happy.

“Okay, Mr Stark.”

Always so complacent with anything Tony says.

Guilt blares hot between his temples and he feels wrong on so many levels as he puts his hands on the boy - who’s still hard, who’d probably insist on dealing with it himself if Tony didn’t want to, because he’s so good he verges on _stupid_ \- and he lets Peter breathe hard against his shirt, paws knotted in Tony’s hair. The kid apologises for getting Tony’s expensive slacks dirty. Tony laughs at the irony and dismisses him, assures him it’s not an issue because it’s really not. He’s the kind of mess come stains only blend into, seamlessly joining the rest of the chaos that’ll one day drag him to a well-deserved party for one six feet under this child’s bare feet.

Peter hovers for a few minutes longer. Tony holds him up until he’s sure the boy’s knees won’t buckle beneath him. Then, he smartly steps back, blank face in place. Peter gazes at him with hesitant expectation. Tony thinks it’s impressive that he still hasn’t given up. Peter’s spirit is made out of titanium, which only highlights the fact that Tony is a man made of clay. It’s just as impressive that Peter can’t tell.

The man quirks an eyebrow slightly. He pretends not to know what Peter wants from him, like he always does. He pretends he’s doing it for Peter’s sake rather than his own. “System on standby, kid?”

It’s all it takes. Peter doesn’t let the disappointment show, merely smiling at Tony bashfully once again. “Right - no, sorry, Mr Stark.”

Tony waves the apology away. He steps out of the way so Peter can move, a hand in his sex-rumpled hair that Tony desperately wants to ruffle. The boy is still flushed and clumsy, walking backwards to smile at Tony, knocking into things that his mentor emptily threatens to make him pay for.

“Good night, Mr Stark - thank you.”

The words grate against Tony’s soul for ten minutes after he’s heard the lab door close, the ever-hopeful spring in Peter’s step fading out of earshot. _Thank you._ Peter is the only person Tony knows who will happily present himself to be thoroughly used and still remember his fucking table manners. Saying thank you like Tony’s a gift tied up with a bow all pretty, instead of a morally challenged grown man who gets off on the intoxicating adoration in Peter’s eyes, when his mouth is full and his nose presses rhythmically against Tony’s skin.

Frustrated, the man stares at the wall like he’s still got Peter pushed up against it. His slacks are still wet; shirt still warm with the boy’s heat. He sighs without bothering to compose himself.

“Friday?”

“Sir?”

“Deactivate conscience.”

There is a pause, like the AI is trying to see if such a thing is possible. A part of him that sounds remarkably like his father wants to say it isn’t just because he’s never had one in the first place.

“I don’t have access to your emotions, sir,” Friday responds, oblivious, and cheerfully suggests yoga and meditation as alternatives to manage his feelings instead. Tony sighs again, finally steeling himself.

“I guess that’s the next upgrade we’ll have to work on, then.”

In the meantime, Tony heartily throws himself into atonement. He stays up all night, working with holograms of nanomolecules until there’s blue spots in his vision. But he can still see Peter kneeling in front of him in his mind’s eye and he’s determined to drive himself into a coma if that’s what it takes to expiate his guilt. Throwing himself into science in order to run away from emotional complications is something that runs in the family and Tony will gladly declare he’s bested his old man in his own field quite well.

Friday leads Pepper to him early the next morning. She finds him passed out at his desk, with daybreak’s cinnamon light combing gently through his hair, sparkling in the metal and glass of the lab encasing him and the soot-dark circles smudged firmly under his shut eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the tags, Peter is precious and Tony's moral compass is MIA somewhere between the Bahamas and New Zealand so he's a bad adult. But hey Peter can do with a doting superhero sugar daddy right?


End file.
